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AMBIGUITIES 




THE 



Hbbcy press 

PUBLISHERS 
FIFTH AVENU^ 

Condon NEW YORK IRontrcal 



THF tIBRAWY ©F 
QCt CHESS, 

Two Cul'lM ReC€IVED 

FEB. 7 1902 

Op»«VT?tOMT ENTRY 

COPY d. 



.Tf?- 



Copyright, 1901, 

by 

THE 

Hbbc y Pr CBS 



J 

^/l CONTENTS. 



;i 



CHAPTER PACa 

I. Plural Ego 5 

II. Involution Evoluted 6 

III. Personal Responsibility and Vice Versa 8 

IV. Emotional Correlations lo 

V. Normally Intermittent 15 

VI. Physical Metaphysics 19 

VII. Intellectual Indigestion 29 

VIII. Thought Impacted 39 

IX. Sense Six 46 

X. Phase Two 52 

XI. Individual Coalescence 56 

XII. Comets Tailless 62 

XIII. Gloria Antebellum 65 

XIV. Coincidents Severed 71 

XV. For New Combine , 74 

XVI. Golden Wedding 76 



AMBIGUITIES. 



CHAPTER I. 



PLURAL EGO. 



Excuse me if I am "pronounced." Excuse 
my saying, "I, I, I," simply, frankly, even if 
strongly. It is either you, or I, chiefly. I have 
recreation on my vacation. I very much like 
times good enough for every one, good times 
ahead. 

I fancy the former Mrs. Fiddlesticks consid- 
ered me "normal" at least. I fancy the former 
lady Fiddlesticks considered me "pumpkin pie," 
and not all "rattle." I guess I fancy what I 
fancy. I do. I guess I do. So do you — of- 
fence not intended. 



Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER II. 

Involution Evoluted. 

Yes, I fancy I did know Mrs. Fiddlesticks, 
sometimes. I fancy I was Mr. Fiddle- 
sticks myself. I fancy, so I do. I fancy 
we're yet to have high old times ahead 
of us. I fancy we're to have a waking moment, 
swallowing up fits and starts and all noises, 
wicked noises. I seriously fancy we are on the 
excursion to the Hellespont. I fancy quite an 
agreeable disappointment is not for us. 

I suppose — but did Mr. and Mrs. Fiddlesticks 
resemble each other? Who possessed the Ro- 
man nose, the eyes, and lip? Whose tongue 
was impudent, slightly impudent, or silvery? 

Ah, la, dear Mrs. Fiddelsticks, follderoll de- 
rido! And bless your own sweet soul, good 
Mr. Fiddlesticks, follderoll derido ! God bless 
your paper dolls, and tiny toy cradle and golden 
slippers. 



Involution Evoluted. 7 

Suppose you say something. Suppose you 
kick Mgh-ho! Suppose you be a very great 
man indeed, and a knowing one altogether. 
Suppose, shucks, suppose! Clear the way for 
Mr. Fiddlesticks and lady. 

"Are those two," quoth the German profes- 
sor in French — "as so much contribution and 
scarce a super-imposition of anyone — a pack of 
mythological lies, disinterred — d — lies!" (Poor 
Prof!) 



8 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER III. 

PERSONAL IRRESPONSIBILITY AND VICE VERSA. 

The practical man — he could be no other — 
proposed to conquer himself. He had proposed 
to consummate that much for ever so long. 
In the very first place, he remembered, he 
learned that he was even yet amenable to di- 
gestion. He was constantly reminded that he 
was required to have nerve. He even fancied 
that these live and sensitive threads, tingling in 
his finger-tips, were somehow like telltales on 
his previous life. Of course something was 
due to the "grand dames," on his paternal side, 
something big. 

Not liking to be "remote" he conceded cof- 
fee its just dues, and coffee alone. He was not 
inclined to diagnose the "whys and where- 
fores." Was he a man of feeling? The "feeling 
world" was more than one phenomenon or 
freak. He could not help some sensation at 



Personal Irresponsibility. 9 

least, when he said it. He fancied all the phi- 
losophies on the subject were ancient. He felt 
he was what he was, since it was not worth his 
while to want to know any more. 

He had responded to what he called Nature's 
rhythm, and, thank God, he was devoutly capa- 
ble of responding to more. Light and sound, 
like all of Nature's harmonies, still gladdened 
the recesses of his soul. The message kept 
coming to him from the inflowing morning, 
and returned within him, and sometimes never 
passed forever away. There were sweet as- 
surances of better things 'way beyond the 
breaking of the day. They were above the 
echoes from down the slants of time. His soul 
would have been one harmonious whole, had it 
not been for other discordant notes. 

His lot had not been some more propitious 
clime, but Earth, only Earth, for he was only 
a man or worm. There were those now blessed 
memories, who were only gone before. Fond 
memories lingered and cheered the pathway to 
the goal. 



lo Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER IV. 

EMOTIONAL CORRELATIONS. 

Perhaps after so long he was prepared to 
conquer himself.^ Sometimes his past and pres- 
ent alternated and were not blended. His feel- 
ings had taken possession of him, and hurried 
him along, zig-zag. Then, too, his soul had dis- 
covered his feelings, he remembered, he knew 
not where, knew not when. He remembered 
their daring tendencies, and wondered at them 
— wondered like a goose. They were the life 
of his life, and led him to rejoice. They were 
father, mother, home and heaven. They were 
innocence and youth, and every good thing. 

There, too, had been stern realities, like chok- 
ing laughs. They were a never-failing foun- 
tain, and the well-spring for perpetual bloom. 
(Mixed metaphor.) Oh, they were everlasting 
reason. Then, too, they led him away. Ex- 
cesses of pleasures mingled in the bitter cup. 



Emotional Correlations. ii 

Excesses of pleasures promised unending de- 
lights. 

After the feasts and the garlands, the prom- 
ise was broken, the true nature revealed. The 
lesson was learned and learned as it is learned. 
And then he learned to bridle his feelings, like 
a wild colt is bridled. And they grew with 
him. And he came to this armor and that ar- 
mor. And he sought his weapons of defence 
and found them. 

These, too, were cold facts. And with all 
these weapons he was to exercise until he 
strengthened in skill, as an invisible warrior, 
and yet visible, we repeat. Only giants and 
great warriors would ever fell him to the 
ground. ( Poor man ! ) 

He had consciously grown a living verity, an 
hourly companion on the street, at home, and 
everywhere, like grass. Mighty forces as from 
distant upheavals surged up to him, and rolled 
in on him, and returned to the great streams. 
These streams, when within him, pulled and 
pushed in opposite directions, and whither he 
listed he often went not, and yet he proposed 
to conquer himself, this man of feeling, before 
high Heaven! 



12 Ambiguities. 

And yet, after these many years, he sat there 
repeating, ''Know thyself." He was asking 
himself to introduce himself to himself. Other- 
wise, where should the conquest begin ? Again 
he said, he knew the philosophies, but was not 
satisfied. And yet he said he was satisfied and 
more abundantly satisfied. 

*' Whence?" said he, "I care not. I rejoice, 
but who am I ? Heretofore, in the established 
order of things, I always took myself for my- 
self, asking no questions, and awakening no 
suspicions." 

This question was always a momentary one. 
Where was its fountain? 

"Let me see how I look. I cannot see my 
present self. I am forever in my own light. 
I am always past. I am the ghost of myself. 
My externals, those of my conscious self are 
present though chiefly future. I'm 60 seconds. 
Sometimes I know how I seem to look to my- 
self. How do I look to my Hindu wife, I 
sometimes fancy. How does she look to me? 
statuesque or not? 

I fancy how legislative halls look to me, dis- 
enchanted from letters, or news items. I 
know I scarcely seem to them, I wear so. I 



Emotional Correlations. 13 

have none of the philosophies, but seek facts. 

I thought I saw how I looked to others, I 
blindly thought so. I had not properly ex- 
pressed myself. I had never succeeded in doing 
that, like any man. Some one of my moods 
was always expressed, but only one phase. 

No one would ever succeed in seeing his com- 
plete self reflected anywhere, and to any one. 
He is never finished. His conscious self was 
too expansive for that. He reached too far in 
every direction. In addition to all this, he was 
too alternating, so at least, I fancy. And then 
there were to be allowances for the media, and 
for those beholding him. 

At any rate, the world kept on with the un- 
dertaking. 

I could not help communing with my crowd. 
I said "communing," and "my crowd." For me 
to hold them to their individual traits in one 
strong light was not just to them. I saw the 
butcher was a butcher, while the baker was the 
baker. And yet for me to show him as always 
following his calling, while temporarily con- 
venient for me, was not his true light, for he 
could preach. My acquaintance, the pawn- 



14 Ambiguities. 

broker, showed distinctive characteristics, but 
then as a whole, he was not so pronounced as 
my camera made him, he was "filmy." I, too 
was likely to be drawn "high-sky." 
Was Ldoing this to my wife? 



Normally Intermittent. 15 



CHAPTER V. 

NORMALLY INTERMITTENT. 

Gracious me! I, too, have been permitted 
to suffer some. It's one's measure. Don't you 
know ? You know what I mean. His capacity 
to suffer. 

My wife's relatives from Singapore, excuse 
me for any feeling, proposed doing America 
with me. I could not see with his eyes, nor he 
with mine. I, at least did not propose to be 
at all "epistolary." 

Young Swami brought along his ^'perfect 
wheel." He proposed to pedal upon the "par- 
allel rays," which he claimed he discovered in 
the atmosphere. I found him the severest 
youth — nothing in Temple-bar equalling him 
in the way of a lean life, absolutely nothing. 

I hardly preconceived how Swami was to 
look all to me. We had a Japanese boy in our 
cuisine. I knew how he was, to be sure. I 



i6 Ambiguities. 

was introduced to a lady in Hong Kong in 
times past. Such straws might prove helpful, 
so I fancied. 

My lady of Hindu extraction was educated, 
and she and I were on a level, in some matters. 

But I go on, as I am prompted. I, too, ob- 
ject and pity myself — but go on, — poor "Pity." 
I am thankful, I am not heartless, as I supposed. 
I, too, made light of our youthful relative's air 
wheel, as he called it — ''perfection wheel." 

I was relieved when I learned it was boxed 
with his parallel, and yet in Calcutta. 

I was subject to humors. When I married 
my Hindu lady, I was contemplating Africa 
at a convenient distance. On account of my 
humors I was frequently tasteful to myself, and 
very agreeable. Had I caught the humors 
from the masters, or my star? My young 
Hindu never caught anything. 

He was as passive as pond water. He knew 
English better than I did, the scamp. He la- 
mented over dishes. Our doings were mostly 
pardonable, just like him. Our religion was 
next after his own. He was as far along in 
life as I was in years. His body was an old 
man, but only his body. 



Normally Intermittent. if 

His soul, I forget what he said his soul was, 
was perpetual cologne, a Plato or cur. Of 
course, I had to admire my wife's tenets, they 
were tenets. Not that I was not exactly my 
former self, for I was not, not at that time, at 
least. I have been my former self, and so on, 
almost indefinitely. But then, one is not pre- 
cisely one's former self. There have been me- 
dia, and more or less intensity, and push. And 
then, one can be only one phase of his former 
self, and that too, not for long, I trow. He is 
always coming from a maze, or else coming 
to one. Then he was exaggerated and again 
he was normal, and so on, like a red rubber bal- 
loon. 

I do not care to linger on these little differ- 
ences, if they are little. I am in a like humor, 
to the one, when I wrote or read ''Inferno/' 
I relegated to back numbers. To-morrow I can- 
not catch that very humor. Perhaps I can 
never come across it any more. What influ- 
ence, if any, have these inner, I think they are 
inner reproductions upon my conscious self? 
Do they temporarily, as it seems, take the place 
of this conscious soul, and think when it would 
think, were it not for them? Sometimes it is 



1 8 Ambiguities. 

my wife thinking for me, and not myself. Do 
they or have they impressed themselves into 
one's conscious thought so that their voluntary 
action becomes your own? This, too, when 
they are absent, and after the intervention of 
other equally impassive things. 

If I have trenched on tender places, the mis- 
take was here justifiable. They were mat- 
ters passing and repassing and constantly re- 
viewed. They concerned a man, and were not 
wholly unprofitable to him and a maid. If 
they were twice told, they are not spoiled in the 
telling. Perhaps they were calling for some 
little remembrance. Perhaps they were not 
consigned to complete oblivion. Perhaps, all 
regardless, they were to return in cycles. 



Physical Metaphysics. 19 



CHAPTER VI. 

PHYSICAL METAPHYSICS. 

Did he not care and yet care to impress him- 
self on his relative. Not that he could counter- 
act his quiet influence. There was an involun- 
tary longing, or tendency of his nature towards 
the perpetuation of himself, he read Cicero. 
It was not of his conscious self or choice. Was 
it only part of himself ? The tendency was al- 
ways there. His young friend radiated some- 
thing akin to the purity of his feelings, a per- 
petual reminder to the elder one to proceed cir- 
cumspectly. 

They were at croquet, or golf, or polo, or in 
the yacht, or else they withdrew to the select 
realm, the one within them. The elder senten- 
tiously met and met the fact of his years as 
though the fact was visual, like his cigar smoke, 
or his wife's nose. He never could get used to 
it all. No one bothered about such matters. 



±0 Ambiguities. 

as his physical metaphysics. He was not a 
dreamer, and yet things long relinquished kept 
repeatedly recurring to him. What did it all 
mean? There was a meaning, otherwise, they 
would not recur. Self-conquest with him at 
least, related to former fields. But then he had 
suffered defeats, far-reaching defeats. 

Had he ground on the mill-stone of the gods 
so as to go forth purer and more available? 
Mental blistering was energy or force. Had 
she not called him ''blister"? Some reverses 
were better for him, some thwarted will, some 
contrition, some abnegation. 

The Hindu was like a rind. Chicago & Co., 
as he called some cities, were not tasteful to 
him. They were haunted in broad day by the 
mute remains of the departed. East India was 
nearer "glorified." 

Respecting "the fatalities," he who did vio- 
lence to his own life woefully offended his eter- 
nal destinies. He was instantly transformed in- 
to the deathless scorpion that forever tortured 
his half-human, half-reptile body. 

With the coming ages, each moment an age, 
all his agonies accumulated ; meanwhile his ca- 
pacities for pain multiplied! All the miseries 



Physical Metaphysics. 21 

of the forever damned were trebly also his. The 
everlasting rejoicings of the redeemed souls, 
winged spirits of thanksgiving, and praise, 
songs incarnate and flowers, not expressionless 
perpetuated within him diabolical jealousies! 
Jealousies, mind you. All his infernal powers 
enlarging, the realm of his sufferings expand- 
ing, the flagrant suicide unable to further harm 
friend and foe inexorably lacerated himself, re- 
ceiving none other compensation than his own 
growing woes — he was Vulcanized. 

The Power that saved the planets from 
tumbling into meaningless atoms chained him 
to his imposed orbits where eternal justice was 
supreme; Mercy well known and principles 
were fadeless. 

Some things distasteful, are unavoidable. 
Against that which was fixed and immutable, 
all human philosophy availed not. 

My Hindu wife spoke from beneath her thick 
veil ! 

Myself doting on myself, as the blest father 
of a promising progeny, a craving never to be 
appeased, was assured that upon one auspicious 
occasion I caught the revealed feature of my 
lady of the veil, the half of my soul. That face 



22 Ambiguities. 

was always there, often associated with casket 
face of the aged mother feebly radiant with the 
triumphant smile of a returning youth. Our 
stipulated separation was voluntary, for had she 
not forsaken caste, revered associations and 
home for me? We agreed that she was not to 
forsake her heaven of the veil. 

My wife was an invalid and lame. Her talk 
had come through the 'phone straight from her 
own lips. She was conscious of some one's cer- 
tain condition. That one attended with every 
gift, luxuriant nature could give, was continu- 
ally impressed with his powerlessness to own 
and appropriate a single thing of all the world 
afforded. Luxury, elegance, ease all hung like 
a pall on his earthly tabernacles. Fancying 
earth was prematurely tired of him, he was 
rashly tired of earth. 

In that state, unfit for heaven as he was, he 
was only fit for hell. 

"Woe unto the philosophies of unrest, woe 
unto perverted natures, woe unto the vio- 
lent!" she 'phoned. 

Harsh though true. 

Had my cloistered wife meant by that some- 
body me and only me? Was there flattery 



Physical Metaphysics. 23 

meant? She was to be sweetly resigned to the 
ripening processes. I thought that when I 
should fully see her face it would be one of res- 
ignation. I thought it would be a face on which 
already occasionally flashed illuminations from 
the haven of light. I knew that face was com- 
posed and natural, and her own. Other faces 
might come and go wnth her face, but hers was 
distinct and alone, in all the throngs. 

Her young relative was quietly the counter- 
part of her harmonious and harmonized will. 
Not that his identity was not always his own. 
A dual identity was not his. 

"Coalescence to Cosmic order was not for 
any of us," said he. 

I was glad that he was disabused of his 
dreamlike infatuation for his "aerial wheel !" 
The prospect seemed so incongruous it might 
bring down philosophy, fame on us. The pleas- 
ure was that young man's sport; something 
not wholly perishing, something to him, 
not evanescent, something eminently practical, 
in so much that I inwardly and in an inex- 
plicable manner, shuddered for him, for I 
fancied he was ethereal. He was no conjurer 



24 Ambiguities. 

or anything gross. He was, as it were, like an 
ethereal Psyche. 

Was his a soul permeating from his body? 
A sage imprisoned in youth ? Osiris nailed on 
Confucius? Then cooped in a dry goods box? 

To him civilization, and especially European 
civilization imported in America, was appetite, 
dominant, exorbitant, and oppressive withal, 
literary or otherwise. To one accustomed to 
the bodily communion of the saints, he had em- 
braced Rome's primitive fathers, as a counter- 
part of his own tenets, our American claims 
were preternaturally discordant to him. He 
found some consolation in the hope that out of 
our noisy woes was rising a grand temple for 
the incarnation of the higher life, not Hindu. 

After our youthful development, the life of 
a people were mellowed by the approach of 
age. Good and true spiritual domination was 
the ultimatum of a nation's rise. Otherwise 
there was disintegration. 

Was he hifalutin? Had that really ad- 
vanced young man conquered his own material 
cant-cant. The attachment of my wife for that 
truly gifted and handsome youth, afforded me 
more than one assurance for his future success. 



Physical Metaphysics. 25 

Their kinship and early associations afforded 
them the freedom of affectionate regard to 
which my heart, not schooled as was her heart, 
hardly hoped to aspire. 

Had she, for once, revealed her face to him, 
for only once? The bare suggestion sent my 
blood tingling in my heart. He had seen her 
when a virgin maid, he saw her when my 
wedded spouse. That joy would go with him 
through the asperities of life's way to the stars. 

Melodrama right "foine." Had he looked on 
her again and again, my esteem for the ten- 
derly pitied one, on the ebb and flow, him I 
mean. Was theirs to be an eternity of mutual 
esteem and fond regard, meanwhile where was 
I to come in ? What had I done to compel me 
to tread my wine press alone, out in the frost ? 
Had I, too, been led to contemplate the horrid 
soliloquy? 

If I had been so tempted of the Evil ones, if 
I had looked upon the cowardly act, if I had 
trembled on the brink of a heartless want of 
mercy for my friends, manfully fighting life's 
battles, if I had yielded to all that, that acme of 
develtry, self destruction of the God intrusted 
body, then I was unpardonable. I had con- 



26 Ambiguities. 

mitted the unforgivable sin, if I thought so. 
But no, my act, thank God, had been as yet 
chiefly fanciful, distortedly fanciful. There 
was yet atonement for me, there was yet 
life, there was hope. 

Not that my Heathen wife, do I speak advis- 
ably ? divined the promptings of my nature, or 
the promptings of some influence for evil mys- 
teriously acting within me and from without, 
tho' she bowed to Fates. I even fancied, the 
influence, or presence, it v/as like a presence 
stole over me, also, even during my less wake- 
ful moments, as if from an invisible and bot- 
tomless pit, conscious as I was that my own 
fancies were alone distorted and exaggerated, 
as they were. It was not me, it was, them. 
They might go on loving and being loved, 
meanwhile I rejoiced at their sincere manifesta- 
tions, they were blood ties. I was sure my 
wife's Japanese .lady companion said that "she" 
loved my soul, but how? The way she said 
it, impressed me as though the Japanese lady 
meant, my wife was in love with my soul. 

I knew our young friend dearly loved my 
soul. 



Physical Metaphysics. 27 

I had no reason to believe the Japanese lady 
loved my soul. My soul was not shekels. 

Her fright was lest she some day turn into 
a Nubian chief, or Eunuch. 

Our valet was an Asiatic negro, whose 
straight hair my wife's lady companion insisted 
on tying back with a pink ribbon, for a decora- 
tion. 

The Egyptian, for so he seemed to me, was 
stolidly indifferent to the blandishments of 
Fate, or the ire of the earth genii. He was 
docile, obedient, simple, except that he loved 
rum. The lady, too, so I knew her, pleased 
my wife in the matter of concealing her face. 
I noticed, however, that her veil was some- 
times of a less cloudy and thick material. I 
thought there was an absence of everything on 
her features, save the most enticing carnal 
beauty. And the Nubian being our go-between, 
impressed me with the fancy that my person- 
ality was like a large masculine body inhabited 
by the feminine gender. This was meant to be 
fully complimentary to me. Did it come from 
my wife? 

My wife believed that the absolute woman- 
soul was vastly more magnificent and superior 



28 Ambiguities. 

to the male soul. She never doubted any dis- 
tinction on the score of the psychical and 
sexual. That was as plain as mathematics, or 
Huxley. She lamented that she was an asceti- 
cally celibate soul in female form, not that she 
was physically absolutely effeminate, as she 
termed it. There were both mental and physi- 
cal mesalliances. 

I confessed to myself, at the time, she was 
both above me, and reached farther down 
than I. She was colossal, and a woman. 
However, I reasoned I was only some 
man. I was not going to tear the veil 
from her face though I had a right to do so. 
I did not endeavor to justify any such act. 
That offence would be an unpardonable of- 
fence according to the tenor of her whole life. 

We had come to occupy a villa at the edge 
of the reposeful R.hine town. I had come to 
suspect that the Japanese companion was 
French, or had been from France, and knew 
French ways, I mean the lady. 

I was not perturbed, though I did not want 
characters to multiply upon me. I preferred to 
indulge my vagaries for the promptings in- 
spired by my young visitor. 



Intellectual Indigestion. 29 



CHAPTER VII. 

INTELLECTUAL INDIGESTION. 

On account of my young friend's suggestive 
way that he involuntarily had, this was only 
temporarily true, I could not so much as write 
a single stanza, unless I was as one fully per- 
suaded that I was in some unaccountable way 
forced to do it. Alone with my ideals and in 
my studio, where I shut out noise, as best I 
could, . the once familiar faces, of cherished 
ones, merely departed, were hovering near me. 
They peered over my shoulder, while I wrote. 

An influence of their presence reached to 
my finger tips. It was often all I could do to 
direct my own thoughts. I laughed at the ma- 
terial philosopher. I compared them to the 
shadows of the flies on the glass. I consid- 
ered them boys, who discerned not the invisi- 
ble sweets. They had not yet shed their 



30 Amhiguities. 

scales. They could not distinguish with the 
eye of the mind. Material things were not 
the world's real concern. The things of sense 
were great and reached far. 

But the things invisible to the carnal eye, 
the things that were the life of the soul were 
inestimably greater. 

I was only indulging my long cherished 
tendency. In the midst of it all our lady com- 
panion managed to show me her face. I trem- 
bled with affright. Was — she — she, who had, 
deliberately committed the unpardonable of- 
fence? Had she shot herself to death, on ac- 
count of unrequited love? Had she returned 
to persecute and haunt me? 

The incident was soon over. The incident 
contrived or accidental. I kept on with my 
work while she sped away with some article 
she had come for. I was at once so absorbed 
I did not care who she was, or what she had 
done. I had obliterated her from my exist- 
ence. Suicides should not pursue me, they 
should be arraigned and everlastingly chained. 
I did not then know that she had tried suicide 
because she was worth her millions. Improb- 
able soul! 



Intellectual Indigestion. 31 

I could not have believed it without some 
effort, not then. 

Our Nubian was vigorously at work from 
morn until eve, a summer's day. And yet he 
was dead in sense, while our young friend, 
who was as pale as death, was awake. He 
had said over in America the Yankee was 
alive. In India they were awake. He had 
also said this at the catacombs, where his own 
voice recoiled upon him. He had said it amid 
the mummies and at the Sphynx — ruefully said 
it. He believed it all, and proceeded to prove 
it in his own leisurely way. He resignedly 
relied on time. 

On the cool steps, overlooking the fisher- 
men, knee deep in the warmlike water, my 
young friend confided in me. It was just 
when the pack-mule turned the corner of the 
huge stone palace. He said Heaven had not 
willed that he die by his own hand. He knew 
it was so, because he never mused on any 
downward tendencies that suggested it. He 
was not mentally concerned about the means 
by which his great ancestors had acquired their 
great wealth. They had not returned to play 
upon his "chords" in tempting him to come to 



32 Ambiguities. 

them. Their last looks had not upbraided him. 
They had not sacrificed for his well being here 
below, though they had imposed upon him the 
sacred trust of all their former wealth. 

It was not in him to dissipate and then die 
the death. The death was self-destruction. 
It was not in him to gamble. No brilliant 
financial coup was to allure him on to the be- 
som of destruction. He had been confronted 
with the whole fatal question. The mind 
never arrived at anything like a disease of 
this kind by one impulsive bound. In the 
latter event there had been a repeated revolv- 
ing of the question. The grave fault was 
there had been error, terrible error, or a mo- 
mentous, rebellious willfulness. Hell is when 
you make it. 

As I was re-arranging my "Lord P 's 

personal incidents" he would have that no- 
menclature — I did not particularly heed the 
boy at that time. I wondered whether the 
lake was deeper near the dark smack than he 
was tall. He was four feet and some inches, 
and like cork. He stood there like one vainly 
lamenting because he was not as tail as the 
bronze knight, or, as I thought, my own lady 



Intellectual Indigestion. 33 

love. But he looked as though he had gained a 
great internal victory over himself and its al- 
lies. I prayed that, that humor might stay with 
him. 
****** 

I was sorry and amused at their little in- 
cident. The cause of their divergence lay in 
some ceremonial, like the times they should 
ablute their heads. The disputants were my 
lady's companion and her young relative. The 
contest waxed so hot that one of them threat- 
ened not to live under the same roof with the 
other. My wife declared for her relative. I 
proposed protecting the companion. I do not 
know why I was so obdurate, unless it was 
my love within me for humanity. The rela- 
tives barricaded the stairs. We held the lower 
floors. 

With all their claims of self-abnegation I 
detected that they made nightly raids on our 
cuisine — or to our cupboard. But I com- 
manded the supplies. 

I took the French maid's hand in mine; 
she was French, and together we ascended to 
my wife's boudoir. Her relative was sketch- 
ing, she posing as Penseroso. Rising above 



54 Ambiguities. 

my mingled feelings, I prepared to permit 
them to finish their conscientious task. I fan- 
cied the maid illy concealed a titter by means 
of her kerchief. I admired his skill, as I saw 
it ought to be admired. 

The one posing as the goddess was now 
concealed by the curtains, though I was pain- 
fully reminded of her crutch, by its inharmoni- 
ous resemblance in an opposite mirror. 

I then commanded them to be instantly rec- 
onciled. They complied like children. I then 
reminded the young man of his resolves to 
devote himself and his all to the elevation of 
his fallen fellow-men. He assured me that 
both his relative, my wife, and he loved my 
soul. I believed his every word. The maid 
busied herself with my wife and her veils. 

I further commanded that one such distress- 
ing episode was more than half past enough. 
They signified their intentions to the effect 
that it was. Then I retired to my rooms. I 
was positive that even religion itself, after 
ages of conquest, had not totally eliminated 
The things of sense and desire. So composite 
was the soul, certainly not of a sacred cow. 

Next day he proposed going to Rome. He 



Intellectual Indigestion. 35 

preferred, as he said it, to live amongst the 
eternal statues. He said even the Rhine peo- 
ple were only as yet learning to eat and drink. 
Their appetites bound them to Earth. They 
had not yet even learned to eat and drink. 
Theirs was animal life and that was all bac- 
teria. He preferred existence. He preferred 
dead bodies and live souls. He preferred live 
souls to dead bodies. He went so far as to 
say that Americans, meaning me, were not live 
souls; with all their noise, they were fuss. 

I uppercut in my clenched hands. He called 
them, again meaning me, "eaters and drinkers." 
I instinctively divined that he was powerless 
to hit back, and so retained my equipoise. I 
thus conquered him in a moment, and he saw 
it. I decided that he was to remain with me 
yet awhile longer. He gracefully bowed to the 
inevitable. Then he poured forth his confes- 
sion. He had not yet conquered himself as 
he thought he had. He referred to an imag- 
inary apothesis, while there was a weird glit- 
ter in the expression on his eyes. The ex- 
pression was external. 

He was soon, as though he was helped by 
some unseen cause, or sequence, and the like. 



36 Ambiguities. 

But when he spoke he was blank; he was a 
vacuity, not even so much as a stare. I was 
seeing through him — detecting nothing. 

He ^compared the apotheosis to his sense of 
justice. He secretly demanded justice. Not 
that he was not to blame for this and that, 
and that and so on. Nevertheless, he felt that 
he was the victim of a superincumbent injus- 
tice, not precisely visible, though keenly real. 
His mental faculties were not disordered. He 
was more rational than people usually are. 
His soul demanded nicer equities. I knew that 
this feeling was natural to the finer sensibili- 
ties of almost every one expecting too much. 
Even the Nubian was not devoid of it, but in 
a less congruous fashion of his own. He sim- 
ply hated personal impositions or inequalities. 
We both experienced the moral government 
operative upon us, we felt it in our bones. 
Since we were fragmentary, the equities, as he 
called them, related to the eternities. No one 
could destroy God's works and love God. He 
was not compelled to imitate whales or car- 
nivora. He knew that he was responsible for 
his every act. His every violation was penal. 



Intellectual Indigestion. 37 

The recoil upon himself was a punishment 
for some offence, real or probable. His 
willfulness sought to be his destroyer. But 
then there was no destruction or annihilation 
possible. The ascending scale peculiar to all 
life proved that. 

Self-inflicted punishment of the hideous na- 
ture referred to, would go on and on. There 
was no remedial eflicacy applicable, because 
there was no time for an acceptable state of 
mind. He admitted that one could seldom be 
too seriously disposed, though he might be that 
for too long at any one time. He promised to 
hand me a letter from my wife. 

Her room was her external world. I ac- 
cepted his proffers with every manifestation 
of courtesy. I was almost effusive. I rec- 
ommended more outdoor exercise, knowing 
that he believed bodily exercise, profited him 
little. The soul, however adversely situated, 
struggling amid the mutations of time for a 
fuller life, was a spectacle words did not por- 
tray. But the experiences of all the past were 
reflected in the living present relative. The 
actors had passed on ahead and were waiting. 



38 Ambiguities. 

We were the actors and were passing on ahead. 
We were material, but then we were living 
souls. 

All jagged, had I a soul, thrown from some 
moon? 



Thought Impacted. 39 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THOUGHT IMPACTED. 

We were living in a semi-desultory way. 
We were not doing our share in the world's 
daily battles. I commenced contemplating the 
question, I would postpone its consideration. 
We held to the nook we occupied as best we 
could, and that was enough for the present. 

Perhaps I would yet relive some historical 
passion. I would reprint starvation scenes. 
I would copy insurrections, or only riots. My 
ultimate object was humanity, a name recently 
come to make me feel serious. Dollars did 
not express my idea. The word incarnation 
was nearer my idea. If I wanted I could not 
be a dog. 

Respecting those historical reproductions, it 
made all the difference in the world, not so 
much as to how they were worked over into 
news items as it did as to who said it. If 



40 Ambiguities. 

the one who reached the most numbers said it 
then it carried some authority, at least, with 
it. There were times when we, as the masses, 
were operated upon to think as one man thinks. 
The irritating process could be carried on until 
somebody got hurt. Then, when one of the 
contending parties, usually the other fellow, 
got weak, we returned to the triumphs of peace. 
As a human integral, I, too, like the rest 
of us, was more or less reactionary. Some 
part of my nature was involuntary. Strange- 
ly enough, there was very little known about 
it. As it was not wholly within my control, I 
thought very little about it. And yet, I was 
amazed when I suspected how much my in- 
voluntary actions possibly affected me. I said, 
suppose my heart should go thumping of its 
own accord — what then?" The very sugges- 
tion was well-nigh distantly alarming. Just 
then, however, I could afford to postpone the 
suggestion. If it ever returned it would 
scarcely be a welcome visitor, but then, these 
reveries did me good. They were equivalent 
to so much work done. They were not eva- 
nescent, but lastingly real, though unseen. And 
they were strangely active, more active than 



Thought Impacted. 41 

trip-hammers, though silent. I kept repeating, 
silent forces are wonderfully active. I was 
thinking from the great gaseous balls in space 
to my involuntary actions. I was thinking 
of my wife's involuntary actions and my wife's 
relative. 

He said his love of water crackers rendered 
him helpless in the matter. He lived on water 
and crackers. He starved his involuntary ac- 
tions into subjection. Did he mean his volun- 
tary ones ? 

I noted his limitations. I had witnessed his 
passion when they barricaded me. The maid 
possessed vastly more passion than did my 
wife and he together, only the former's was 
exceptionally dormant. 

That pale statue stood there and admitted 
to me that his feelings habitually tended to 
run away with him. He had been faithful 
to the mathematics, but his feelings were still 
there with him. He had again and again con- 
trolled them, and would continue so to do. He 
hoped to be gradually dead to them, and if it 
had not been for the crackers he would have 
done so long ere this. 

I was instinctively reminded of that apothe- 



42 Ambiguities. 

osis of liis. I was convinced that something 
like a gieam from way beyond struck him 
near the region of his temples. It was sug- 
gestive of the rest of a halo, lost in shadow. 
I suggested that slow heroics of human sacri- 
fice (this was a harsh way of putting it), was 
not imperative in his case. I conjured the 
heathen in him. I recommended the heroics 
of a long suffering service in favor of ulti- 
mate good and his own sure reward. I tem- 
pered this with some seasoning like that of his 
will reconciled, personal acquiescence with his 
lot in life, the value of a cheerful disposition, 
contentment, resignation, and all the other sa- 
vory morsels I could think of. 

My wife and he were again fasting, pre- 
sum.ably on liquids, for forty days. There 
were other tedious ceremonies associated with 
the operation. He was already as if he were 
stretched on a board, as he lay there on his 
sofa, not unlike a living corpse. Suddenly 
he sprang from his resting place like a tiger 
in a rage. In the darkened room he gleamed 
like two eyes, two diminutive balls of fire. 
The rest of his body was in shadow. I never 
saw a better show of impassioned fury. 



Thought Impacted. 43 

''Soup! Soup!" he stormed — "give me some- 
thing to eat, I tell you ! Give me to eat before 
I die!" 

The maid came running in, from v^hose 
hands he tore the bowl, drinking the hot broth 
in gulps. 

I remarked his fine show of appetite in our 
successful efforts to keep him from suddenly 
devouring himself. 

They said my wife succeeded better. She 
attained heights not seen by the grosser senses. 
She saw the embattled glow not visible to 
Earth. She accepted messages forever her 
own. She returned to her room all the better 
for her trance. Her body had not left her 
soul. She demonstrated that affluence of ma- 
terial supply was not unlike the poor in spirit. 
Her idea of abject poverty was anyone's ina- 
bility to dine on an ounce of rice. I thought 
she was to turn into lier Angel. 

He said she was homiletic, because she said 
the matter of anyone's distates so often 
tended towards things gross in nature. Slio 
had attained to where her tastes were for the 
beautiful. Good was always that. Evil was 



44 Ambiguities. 

not. Religion returned to chide the sensual. 
Then she asked me for rice pudding. 

Our maid had gone with the Nubian, osten- 
sibly to teach somev.-here in America. 

It had been r.iy remarkable lot to live well- 
nigh half a century. I, too, had had vicissi- 
tudes. Others came and went, much as they 
are daily doing. I had lived through great 
crises. I felt I could not live through when 
many, very many, died in battle. I am en- 
abled to rejoice with the Earth hourly forging 
ahead. 

I will never forget the moment when my 
wife showed me her face and confided in me. 
She became my bride. I carried her flowers 
and grapes, like one on visioning honeymoons. 
Our peculiar courtship, as I called it, had been 
strangely protracted — was but jus!; begun. 

I hastened to the yard and threw the doves 
some grains. The manner in which they dis- 
criminated in their preferences for particular 
seeds momentarily suggested a train of 
thought. I cut my wife bunches of flovv'ers, 
and carried them with her to the bedside of 
the sick boy. I gave my pet squirrel a cup 
of cold water. We together began to devise 



Thought Impacted. 45 

means for making the world better. We, too, 
advisedly began with ourselves. Each spare 
moment was devoted to making somebody bet- 
ter. 

From loving my soul, my wife took to lov- 
ing the souls and bodies of our neighbors need- 
ing help, needing us. 

Our young friend we left with a good phy- 
sician in the assurance that our young friend, 
too, would go home a good physician. We, 
too, finally determined that there was work 
for us in America. And so we were to set 
sail. 

But first we determined to breath the free 
air of France. 



46 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER IX. 



SENSE SIX. 



My reveries contrasted me (I adopted the 
word) with what I ever was before. When 
they were entirely absent from me, when they 
were not present with me, just as they used 
to be before, I was lost. I proposed to stay 
under the sun as long as I could stay from 
it. What if I had missed my chance, what of 
it? It was chiefly circumstantial after all. I 
kept repeating, as I ought to have done. I 
could be ever so much now and henceforth. 
I would have to learn and unlearn. There 
was something sweet in a cup of cold water 
and a smoke. There was always something 
pleasant to behold, something nice to say, 
something good to do. 

No one knew the capacities or possibilities, 
how I disliked long words, of his senses. I 
always called my brains my sixth sense. 



Sense Six. 47 

While I was repeatedly tasting and feeling 
something I called appeasing to me, I was not 
to suffer more than was good for me. I was 
not unmindful of other feelings. Judge of 
my excitement. I confess 1 was excited on 
hearing of my young friend's abruptly an- 
nounced marriage. He married an African 
princess, black as Niobe, if she was black. 

I gladly learned the great event was a cher- 
ished design of his. I longed to meet the 
lady, for such she likely was to prove. I 
went so far as to picture him the happy father 
of a lively boy, almost envying, as I did, the 
coveted distinction. My wife knew that they 
would be happy. But, alas! Was I not to 
be permitted the realization of my ardent 
wishes in this respect? I consoled myself, 
however, that time and distance were not nec- 
essarily unconquerable. 

The sixth sense I recurred to, and relating 
to joys unspeakable, was capable of magnifi- 
cent development. It had to do with the most 
serious affairs. We revelled in all the poetic 
charms. adorning Venus. We gladly mingled 
with what we were pleased to call the cease- 
less human activities. 



48 Ambiguities. 

We, my wife and I, were associated in all 
these human and mechanical evolutions. Our 
wheels fairly spun through space — I paid 
Worth for a fine gown for my wife. We 
longed to stay here a thousand years, for we 
were immensely in love with life. We wanted 
to revel in the outcome. We wanted to take 
part in the culminating ascent — it is sweet to 
live for Country. We wanted to garland and 
crown prodigious humanity. But we were 
not the slaves of our desires of this kind. We 
were constantly preparing for that glory which 
would come to us and enable us, as we be- 
lieved, to review all of Earth from afar. 

LIGHTED FACES, OR, RELATIVE'S LETTER, AD- 
DRESSED TO AMERICA. 

His muse was pensive. Was he a failure? 
What was failure ? Oh, that pastry ! He was 
sure he was some man, some one of us Amer- 
icans, and far from young. He hoped for 
better things. There was a man filled with 
his routine labors or odes. His intermittent 
ideals, as he called them, at first pleased him, 
and then soured him, when he was weary of 



Sense Six. 49 

cake. His ideals, he called them conceits, or 
fancies were, as he remembered, as though 
they come to him, or thrust in upon him. He 
was not concerning himself about their source; 
it was enough for him that they were there 
with him. 

He was subordinate to material things, and 
dependent upon the neighbors' brats. It was 
as if he had been always materially circum- 
stanced. He needed pickles. It was too often 
his infatuation that material things would al- 
ways occupy him. Constant effort was re- 
quired for him to rid his mind of the materi- 
alistic idea. 

It was an idea or bugaboo, a motive, a bent 
of his mind, heart and disposition, and in a 
large measure, a necessary condition. He, 
like every one, was hourly illustrating his posi- 
tion, his material connection, as he called it, 
mounted hobby. 

He was not independent of all those who 
were mercenary any more than he was inde- 
pendent of the demands of his nature. 

Was he to consider how those social asso- 
ciations had affected him? He was empow- 
ered to ruthlessly terminate his material rela- 



50 Ambiguities. 

tions, he had the power. The wanton exer- 
cise of that power daily passed. Alas! It 
came to be almost a mania. The right of its 
fearful exercise, even if permitted as a con- 
templation, at once did violence to every sense 
of decency and order. Every instinct of na- 
ture taught him that there was no such right 
permissible to the contemplation of a sound 
mind. The very contemplation was absolutely 
wrong, and, alas! too long familiar to many. 
And the right, though scarcely debatable, was 
already discussed. 

Those believing themselves to be of a sane 
mind, evidenced by their conduct, were con- 
fronted by the question. It had become a 
question. As its one final solution is a matter 
of time, and some forbearance as well, we are 
entitled to dismiss the subject, much after the 
manner distasteful subjects are dismissed, 
fully persuaded, however, that we will be re- 
peatedly reminded of it before a day passes. 

We have especially alluded to a periodic 
prevalence, spoken of as likely to become epi- 
demic. Nor are we destitute of sympathy for 
those of our relatives more poignantly affected. 
We pray for them a reconsideration of every- 



Sense Six. 51 

thing bordering a rash undertaking. We be- 
lieve we are justified in our remarks. 

One more relative as a written page is tor- 
ture. One more written line from my relative 
would drive me mad. Spooks, avaunt! I'm 
bound for other scenes and nicer places. And 
not all unlike the former Mrs. Fiddlesticks, 
I, too, am henceforth a changed man. I'm 
henceforth the latterly Mr. Fiddlesticks, to 
turn to Rome, or Paris, at pleasure, and cheat 
the prestidigitateur. 



52 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER X. 

PHASE TWO. 

My wife was translucent. I loved the mathe- 
ematics. Our chef was with us. So was 
wife's companion. My wife was to them as 
"the unacquainted with them before." I copied 
my wife daily; not that I did not have my 
opinion, for I did. She was pleased with the 
doll's new gown. I was happy. I promised 
myself a golden slipper for the doll we were 
to borrow. I even looked for our distant rela- 
tive, he with the wheel for the parallel rays. 
I looked to week after next. 

We occupied our villa near the French City. 
My translucent wife met the French cadet in 
an ordinary manner. He was very polite to 
my translucent lady. She was "caste" — as 
we all know. I, lovingly to m.yself, called 
my wife "Caste." I hoped I was getting ac- 
quainted with my own wife famously. 



Phase Two. 53 

The Lieutenant was like her chaperon. She 
distantly made him a guide for her. Not that 
I felt less redolent of youth on his account, 
for I did not. I was exotic. 

As he had no eyes for me I simply relished 
his youthful inexperience. I even fancied my 
wife a bit austere with our gay cadet, though 
she was not melancholy. He did not so much 
as notice my wife's French companion, our 
lady's maid. Would he notice our relative 
when he should come? 

We three enjoyed luncheon, singly and to- 
gether. The soft candy floated in the juice 
of cherries. We made a grand discovery. The 
cadet was a writer. 

He had come unscathed through "the 
duello." 

He wore a scar under the finger ring of his 
own right hand and by him mentionable. 

I am not partial to the denouments, however 
pleasing, though I confess I do not despise 
them on occasion. I am not a savant with the 
French tongue and labials. The Lieutenant 
supposedly was "vocable and vibratory." He 
enjoyed my "accent" and I enjoyed my want 
of it. He enjoyed my meanings in French. 



54 Ambiguities. 

I enjoyed his supposable interpretation of my 
meanings. I enjoyed their customs when on 
their streets and when in their saloons in pub- 
He. I resolved to enjoy their purely private 
arrangements at a relative distance, and was 
happy. My wife had known him before. Did 
he know her? Quite an enigma, but brief. 
Yet he w^as a benefactor as a writer. 

My wife's fictitious wTiter donated me all 
Nature to enjoy. He proffered me outdoor 
sports unstinted for us both. He loved turtle 
in the swim. Were there dim vistas in our 
savant writer's vision? This whole query sat 
there before me, but without me. 

Thus I never thought any when in company 
at dinner. Or if I thought a thing worthy 
of thinking it was the pleasure of those who 
entertained me, for that it was that just then 
pleased me altogether. 

Yes, there were sights in the City, but 
sights were not seeking me, not for awhile. 
My wife was my sweetheart — I was her pickle. 
The young Lieutenant was roses blushing to- 
gether. 

She played well upon our feelings — very 
well. I never saw her more translucent to me, 



Phase Two. 55 

and I was never more attentive and true, 
never. Not that he, for one rich moment, was 
my brave rival, for in that role he never 
played to either of us. And I could not con- 
ceive he rashly played it unto himself, for he 
never did. And so we both, my wife and I, 
admired Nature for him, and with him, indoors 
and out. My wife administered bonbons and 
translucent sweetness. She showed very 
motherly and tenderly to her boy. 

And so we kissed him a warm adieu. God 
bless you. Then it was I gave the almslady 
my grapes. 



56 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER XL 

INDIVIDUAL COALESCENCE. 

Heart to heart and hand in hand, my wife 
and I were on our honey-mooning. Not that 
we had not tasted wedded bliss for years, for 
we had, as we both of us well knew, though 
but a curtained veil transmuted her visible 
loveliness at that time. What I do mean is 
this, I could not see her with my own eyes, 
and with scarcely the eyes of some other one. 
I could not see through that veil in our earlier 
married life. But now, right jauntily would 
we sail right on together. We would let 
every passing cloud just pass us by. 

In most all the galleries we, she and I, 
passed in front most all the pictures; yes, she 
and I, in front. 

We two never said we saw the pictures, we 
could not see in quite an age together. Here 
dame Nature wedded a Cupid, and we were 



Individual Coalescence. 57 

assured the spectacle was intense, for it took 
us both quite by surprise, and that, too, when 
we were surprised before. 

Then there was Art glued to Nature, which 
we were almost sure we both admired, though 
the contrast we much enjoyed ourselves 
through it. I confess that Virgin Nature's 
arms were loveliness to me, though when I felt 
Bettina's wifely look piercing me, I closed my 
eyes. And for her sweet sake and my own 
we turned to a skeleton nailed to a tree, Bet- 
tina and I. 

Then I coyly blushed at the Sirens across 
the gallery, all smiles for me or not for me, 
just as I chose, though I inwardly mourned 
for them, if it were not all dead loss. I told 
my wife, Bettina, I looked on the grand im- 
prints in the wall, those palpitating faints for 
fresh courage to look on her comparatively. 

And I meant it, for she, my own wife, was 
lovelier to me than loveliest women, contrast 
or no contrast. I disliked to call her tender 
and round and the fairest of all the King's 
daughters, either to myself or to her face, for 
I both knew and felt she was to me, at least, 
like every lady is to her own true knight. 



58 Ambiguities. 

But the brazen serpent walking on his fcjt 
or big toe, I meant great toe, or caudal ap- 
pendage, or patented attachment of some kind, 
was no longer a draw on us. So, too, the 
accursed tree and all the salamander sirens, 
because that painting of the fleshy arms drew 
the crowd, illusionized. 

If my own Bettina Amanda had then been 
my imipersonal pronoun I could not have kept 
my hand off that pictured arm of flesh, by — 
Joe-no-ho, in spite of the guards. 

I could not have done it, for you see it just 
took hold of me until my own guardian angel 
squeezed me away bodily. She brushed me 
like a limber rag. She dragged me to the 
Marbles, some saucy, impudent and proud, 
while others hanged his head, ashamed of his 
record, weazen thing. 

I knew those engraven images were not 
blind and knew not where I got the impres- 
sion, though they had stone eyes. But the 
most unaccountable thing of all, it was plain 
to me, was the manner of my thoughts and 
feelings, while I was in that strange gallery. 
I was some one else than my former self all 
the while we two were there. I was ungainly 



Individual Coalescence. 59 

to myself in my own eyes. I was the reflec- 
tion of a distorted mirror. And yet I was 
not dwarfed, or awed, or humbled, but 
ashamed at my own reflections. And I en- 
joyed it all hugely — we, both of us. 

And all the way home I saw she knew I 
was keeping back something from her, while 
she saw I knew she was keeping back some- 
thing from me. She w^as not giving in to 
me. I was not giving in to her — we mated. 
Then she was not thinking of the affair and 
I was not thinking of it. Then, again, she 
was thinking of it and I was thinking of it; 
not that it was mystic, for it was not mystic, 
or was it ? 

Unable to contain myself, I inflected, 
"Whose picture?" 

She deflected, "Whose picture?" 
I added, "You're thinking of—" 
She sighed. "And you?" 
"I mean the Virgin on the wall." 
"You mean that of the nude hussy." 
"Yes, but whose is it?" coaxed I. 
"You know well enough," she answered. 
And then, once again, because understand- 
ing one another, we were quite happily de- 



6o Ambiguities. 

termined. The first one to meet us at our 
own threshold was the picture, the picture of 
the arm. It was not at all blood stained, it 
was my wife's lady companion certain. Had 
she presented her own painting to the Acad- 
emy? 

Incidentally, she said she was not aware of 
the exhibition. Incidentally, we, wife and 
husband, requested her to specially report pic- 
ture No. 9 to us next day. We believed every 
word she reported. We believed that the pic- 
ture displayed no arm at all. I know we did. 

Bettina and I did believe her when she was 
loath not to report whose picture the thing 
really was. She was sure of the right picture, 
right number, right everything. 

She went into ecstacies over the pictured 
woman's grand gown and fine diamonds. Her 
coiffure scintillated, her mantle was radiant. 
She meant her head-dress was radiant, while 
her skirt scintillated. Here she recorrected 
herself. 

Wife's companion kept on saying — she 
went into raptures over some lace upon the 
pictured lady's throat. Wife's companion fell 
to her knees and held her both hands prayer- 



Individual Coalescence. 6i 

fully together, pointed towards my wife. She 
meant No. lo was my wife, my wife's por- 
trait. 

Thought I, did she mean it or didn't she 
mean it? Were Bettina and I, each and both 
of us, deceived, or was Souzoo, wife's com- 
panion, deceiving me ? Impossible, thought I. 
I will look up something for Souzoo. 

I'll find a thing of hers in all this matter, 
for I'm very much tickled over the complete, 
combined aggregation. 

Next day, with Bettina, my witness, I took 
a cab and her for the exposition. I saw no 
one and nothing on the way. I was blind 
and deaf to all the paraphernalia of the big 
show. My witness and I made straight for 
No. 9. Bless my stars, there was nothing 
there! Number 9 was a framed hobgoblin; 
No. 10 her twin brother. We ransacked the 
whole aggregation-convention for that picture. 

I offered the management 1,000 louis d'or 
for that picture. I multiplied it, all in vain. 



62 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER XII. 



COMETS TAILLESS. 



The banker realistically confirmed compan- 
ion's statement. Had I something, after years 
of sportiveness, to think about ? We two, hus- 
band and wife, had slight acquaintance with 
the banker. He fell to his knees on the tufted 
carpet and apostrophized my wife before my 
surprised eyes. I was used to efifete symbol- 
ism, but the banker was extraordinary. 

He prayed our pardon because he showed 
ordinary. Was he to kiss the carpet figure 
where my wife just stood? He lapped it. He 
averred he would not permit her to touch her 
finger tips on his fevered lips, then kiss and 
kiss and kiss. 

He protested he kissed the air she breathed, 
the room she occupied, kissed his way through 
all the world, from the gallery (No. 9), to 
find her. 



Comets Tailless. 63 

I would have lifted the banker bodily if he 
had not grandiloquently sworn by check and 
draft that he would not lay his hands upon 
her nor touch a single hair upon her sacred 
person, for he was a veteran worshipper of 
female loveliness. He sought all his past for 
one translucent woman and now he found her. 

I helped him to the divan, where he was 
very happy. 

We were unconscious of the greatness of 
the banker and only saw the individuality im- 
pressed upon us. My wife and I sat very close 
and concealed our conjugal felicity. We 
blessed his wife and two charming daughters, 
gone to Italy. 

Bowing and saluting, he pompously departed, 
promising himself to call daily. Should we 
travel, too, to Italy hy the early train, or should 
we solve the riddle of the picture, that of the 
fleshy arm? Had the wealthy banker my 
wife's picture secreted in his apartments? 
Then it was I saw Bettina wore a cheerful 
smile, but she only zvore it. 

Was her portrait on the boards her heart's 
delight? Or was there else back of the scenes, 
I durst not even fancy. Had we always 



64 Ambiguities. 

brewed happiness for one another against the 
time when we should have our life-long meet- 
ing? 

Of one thing, only one thing, I was certain, 
he had seen a likeness to my wife's reflection; 
all else clearly was uncertain. We were hav- 
ing one therefore, and it was we were still 
very happy together, my wife and I. 

This time I gave the peddler of poverty 
my orange. Would wife resume the veil? 
Was caste in her bones? Meanwhile, I had 
her with me. 



Gloria Antebellum 65 



CHAPTER Xin. 

GLORIA ANTEBELLUM. 

Did I love myself? What a question. Did 
I like gooseberry? 

No, sir ; there were to be no more avalanches 
of invitations for self and Betty, high or not. 
There was to be no shim-sham of battles galore 
for me (both) I shielded my fair lily from 
the glories of war. Didn't we both love 
''vive Repuh-l-i-q-u-eT Didn't we prance 
along the charging column bugling, ''Vive 
republic r Didn't they boom-boom-boom, 
''Vive La Republic r Ours the glory, as ours 
the crush all day long, all for the glory of 
France. 

We were happiness, we two. 

We had our own select party of field mar- 
shals. They were the banker, decorated. The 
banker galloped like ''Wind," which he rode. 
The banker was spurs, save his decorations 



66 Ambiguities. 

and boots. The banker saluted me with his 
sabre — swirr ! 

Was Bettina to be the enemy he was charg- 
ing? I returned the compliment when the 
Field Marshals decorated me with the salute. 
Our field of glory was just then, as if for al- 
ways. Intenser glory kept coming on us. 
Were all the marshals turned to the ladies? 
Were they to crown me, or my queen, with 
salvos? Were the bristling columns charging 
up and charging down, were the "bristles" ma- 
noeuvering? Was it "leap to the rear, parry by 
the head, kneeling!" Was it "lunge, lunge, out, 
guard, passe, d-e-p-1-o-y !" It was glory, all war, 
all sheen, all sweet strains, and boomerangs! 
bang, boom, b-a-n-g! 

It was love of country, love of the grand 
promenade, love of the saloon, and parks full 
of transparent maids. 

At the head of the columns and the thick 
masses, I ambled home — Betty and I — feeling 
almost better than myself. 

I handed the poor veteran my purse. I scat- 
tered coin. 

That night my banker sent me more bouquets 
bound by threads of gold. That night be re- 



Gloria Antebellum. 67 

newed me his addresses, honeycombed. I was 
to consider him my kindest of lovers. I was 
his dove-love. I w^as his own dear "platonic," 
his liaison, sub rosa. 

He had no other "liaison." His wife and 
daughter were finishing Italy. At the masquer- 
ade dance that night he proposed marriage in 
the curtained casement by the exotics, to me. 
He offered to marry my Bettina. He proposed 
a sealed contract for fourteen days. He intoned 
''daysf' — P. M., 6 o'clock, she was Mrs. F. 
again. 

In his mind, he armored his day-time bride 
with solitaire diamonds, not borrowed. He 
paraded his fairest bride — my ''translucent," 
before the illustrious gaze of the Parisians. In 
his mind, my bride was his cynosure of France 
and glory. 

I kept noting it w^as all in his mind, his artic- 
ulating my bride for the day-time, glorying of 
him. I blandly notified him to name the day 
and terms, I to chose my second. He saw a 
duel in my eyes and shook my hands. The 
duel made us friends. We would have ten 
days to revel in our duel appointments, and mu- 
tual friendships, he for me, and vice versa. 



68 Ambiguities. 

Did he prefer his paper cutter, then I pre- 
ferred carbines. Should he prefer his rapier, 
I choose my young cannon. With this good 
hope of our great tragedy upon us, we enjoyed 
the ball. I saw, he felt, like I, that our glori- 
ous duel was fixed, sure and certain, and when 
enacted it would surprise the papers. 

I danced with my banker — my banker danced 
with me. Betty waltzed with her companion 
until we all quadrilled in the cotillion, and 
changed partners, Betty to me, the duelist to the 
companion. Was the companion the duelist- 
banker's former friend? 

I dismissed this as an improbable sugges- 
tion. Might as well ask was Betty once a star, 
a star actor, was the banker Betty's former 
genius, might as absurdly ask anything foolish- 
ly ridiculous, as was companion's photograph 
exactly like Betty's photograph ? You might as 
well imagine my duelist-banker was 99 years 
old, plus 364 days. And yet, these foolish no- 
tions danced in Betty's eyes, and danced in my 
ears, and kept dancing to the refractory fiddle 
string, until I laughed and Betty laughed, and 
w^e all laughed together, we two of us, for we 
were in harmony. 



Gloria Antebellum. 69 

When the banker-entity first came to me, I 
accepted the situation, he had along with him, 
I never looked at all, fore or aft, for I had my- 
self well in hand, as I thought. 

I was down for a good time. Next, perhaps, 
I would be treated to my gun club in front of 
my debating event of the season. My target 
practice was what I made it, good sport after 
my mathematics, good for me. My dolly dar- 
ling plugged the bull-eye. I loaded, she fired. 
At our gun club, I parried, Dolly lunged at me 
like a vixen. We slashed at one another with 
our sa'ores, until I feared she thought me in- 
vulnerable. I had been pleased to remain invul- 
nerable too long. I should have fought the 
banker day before yesterday. 

Now I was to have the chance to duel to the 
glorious finishing stroke for my own, own, old 
woman, bless her ! 

My cup bubbled over. When we two swam 
together on the ambient trapeze, we altogether 
felt our future duel was magnificent. We two 
reciprocated everything — terms, place, time, 
seconds and weapons. Nerve, muscle, cuisine 
was hov/, then, become exceedingly pleasurable. 
I loved onions. Certainly I was already much 



70 Ambiguities. 

better. I was to get to be nerve itself, the pride 
of Paris. 

Therefore I began to pummel myself with 
sand cushions. I erected myself in every con- 
ceivable attitude everyv/here, in cold or heat, I 
drilled every muscle, and came out of it all 
smooth as a cucumber. 

I was collecting myself. I was concentrating 
in upper cuts, and rib-breakers. I was toughen- 
ing but quickened. Betty ought to win. Betty 
had to win. Betty was to win. 

The time for the duel was in all especially 
reasonable probability soon to be considered 
definitely. The authorities were to be frus- 
trated. Nothing short of a duel was to atone 
the mortal offence given. . 



Coincidents Severed. 71 



CHAPTER XIV. 

COINCIDENTS SEVERED. 

I LAUGHED until I shook inwardly. Had I 
imagination after all said. Betty had my con- 
science, I said. I copied Bettina. 

But then the French had honor, and French 
honor was as much for me as it was for the 
French. 

Another queer thing happened me, it was 
this, I had an idea. My idea was the drollest 
idea. But it could survive independent of 
words. I had a right to ask myself, did I know 
my own idea? With it, I was non-combative. 

My idea and I maintained pleasant relations. 
We simply could not help our mutual esteem. 

At my wife's request I frequently accom- 
panied her lady companion to the public places 
of amusement. For my wife's amusement, we 
two, Farina and I, thus innocently occupied 



72 Ambiguities. 

ourselves. We wished Bettina to fulfill her per- 
sonal appointments. I wished her to indulge 
her proper inclinations, for I was determined to 
be pleased. Farina yearned for me to teach her 
the mathematics, she had the music. 

We established a family confessional, where 
I freely told *'Bet" all Farina and I did and 
saw, alvv^ays both going and coming, and when 
there. Dear, good Bet believed my every word, 
never doubting. I believed myself. It was all 
like music, in one ear and out t'other — never 
staying. We led a happy life — events trilling 
through us. Since my Bettina scraped my ear 
with the rapier, when we stood in the rear of 
the curtain — she loved to have her own way, 
not less than formerly. 

Everything, however, occurred to keep us 
happy. The golden slipper arrived. We had 
punch in it. 

At the exhibition we saw the ''beautifulest" 
baby! My wife was charmed, because baby 
could cry, and did cry, while my wife charmed 
me on account of the baby. 

Such a baby mouth, too, sweet, trilled Bet- 
tina. "And such a baby-foot and such curls, 
and eyes, and a real dimple! ain't it lovely!" 



Coincidents Severed. 73 

We agreed the beautiful baby was a French 
baby. 

We told the French lady they certainly did 
not import the we- wee, plump baby. The lady 
was pleased to inform us that we rightly and 
creditably informed her. I thought Bettina 
permanently settled at long last, by the side 
of that baby, for she loved to hear it sing. She 
asked me whether they sold babies at the Ex- 
position. Betty grew very communicative, so 
that she was a fine study, in my view point. 
She wondered how much a baby was worth. 

The lady in attendance pointed to the tag. 
It read, ''Sold to Banker, No. — Serpentine 
Street. 

Betty and I looked at one another, tears brim- 
ming her eyes, while we silently passed on. 

The banker found "a translucent baby." 

That night, before retiring, my spouse asked 
me to send her a poodle dog from the Dog 
Show. Yes, certainly, to be sure, I loved 
poodles, ribbons and wax dolls. She requested 
me also to buy Farina a dream of a bonnet, "all 
for Farina." 



74 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER XV. 



FOR NEW COMBINE. 



The French banker sent me a candy pop- 
gun concealed in a ''billet." He called to eat 
''farewell" with me. He wished a "merry- 
making," because the duel haunted him. We 
were first having a merry farewell. Previous 
to the encounter we were to have rounds of big 
dinners. We were to do Venice and laws know 
what all. Thus the grim reality was happily 
postponed. 

This time he renewed his former proposal. 
He remembered it to our lady Farina, acting in 
behalf of my absent Bettina. Brushing aside 
my explanations and expostulations, he was 
convinced by his own eight senses that he was 
addressing Bettina. I enjoyed the correc- 
tion of his eccentricities. I shook him out 
to the street, like a pug pup. I rever- 
berated, "Coward!" I was done trifling with 



For New Combine. 75 

eccentricities. My own good sense was in- 
volved. I enjoyed the exercise of my manhood. 
That was enough. I never thought of conse- 
quences. 

My idea was refreshing. I, then, saved Fa- 
rina from falling. 



76 Ambiguities. 



CHAPTER XVI. 



GOLDEN WEDDING. 



The banker's ways were not purely French 
ways. He had not thus convinced me. Was 
Farina ''lucent" ? He called her ''luscious" ; 
that weazened flapdoodle, that ninety and nine 
years, that emasculate wormwood ! 

I saw not my own ways. I took it for 
granted, he also saw no peculiarity in me. I 
fancied I was ebb and flow of mankind. I sup- 
posed he had motives. He thought they were 
good for him. He was after gratification of his 
vanity, nothing more, nothing less. But then, 
we were against that gratification. Ourselves 
were compromised by every suggestion belong- 
ing to his proposal. His only excuse was the in- 
fatuation of his great age. Even that did not 
help him out of his guiltiness, or out of our 
reach. 

I confess I shuddered at complications of any 



Golden Wedding. 77 

character. I confess we less courted publicity 
always two sided. We might have to stand 
even publicity. But then, he feared exposure. 
Would he turn the tables on us? 

Did we know the savant? I even came to 
enjoy my helplessness in the matter. Where I 
was blamable that I did not reason backwards. 
I was fonder of being happy than of being 
right. Yes, I was getting very much better. 
Would I ever be able to withstand a lecture? 
Was I to meet those "truly happy" ? Was I to 
attain the next best to it ? Was I to evangelize 
myself? Deliver us. 

At one thing I laughed right heartily. Bet- 
tina sued me for a divorce. She alleged I 
bought Farina a costly bonnet, while Bettina 
went bareheaded in the w^eather. Certainly I 
believed my senses. Bettina legally proceeded 
by her best friend, the great banker. Poor, best 
words how I loved ye, to name to me all my 
hilarious folly ! Bettina was departed from me 
for the saloon of the savants, gone for good. 
Bettina, the pride of my life, the joy of my soul 
— fled from me. 

What magic art invoked by that finished im- 
postor ! This complication twisted me, though I 



78 Ambiguities. 

laughed a little after dinner, a very little bit. 
Would Farina cling to my cause like mucilage 
to an envelope? Would she turn the tables on 
him? Would she remove the spell from Bet- 
tina? 

I flung myself down at her mercy, sobbing, 
"Farina!" and kissed her brow and promised 
her everything. Great Vidio! Was she, too, 
become translucent? Next they made me im- 
ponderable. 

But I'd "translucent" that fellow when I got 
him, I'd ''imponderable'' him also when I got 
him ! When I got him, there'd be forgiveness 
for some one, free pardon. 

Surely I was getting happy, two enjoyable, 
if not ridiculously laughable affairs — duel and 
divorce. My integrity, if nothing more, de- 
manded that I enlist Farina and keep her on my 
side. She would establish the truth for me. 
She knew that Bettina shared everything with 
Farina, myself included. The two women were 
"loving sisters." 

Bettina had said my kindness to Farina was 
kindness to Bettina. Indeed she refused to re- 
ceive more at my hands, more of affectionate 
regards, than became Farina's. I was invalid. 



Golden Wedding. 79 

I had not punched hard, when she and I 
boxed with the gloves. I did not hit back when 
she repierced my ear. I was always consid- 
erate, kind and tender, always. She never 
screamed in my ear, and I never snorted like 
a sea-horse, no never. I never pewked vitu- 
perate abuse all over her, and she never spat 
recriminative lies in my face, so help me Isis. 
She never blew off a whole mess of false jeal- 
ousies across her decayed false teeth in my 
nostrils, when I once, only once soberly re- 
mained to hear the oratory until 4 o'clock in 
the morning. 

I knelt to Farina. I implored my perfumed 
goddess. Had I ever so much as walloped Bet- 
tina, had I ever even once paddled her hands 
or her wrist, or her collar bone ? Paralyze my 
false teeth if I did ! 

Farina, toying with her tired ankle, sweetly 
smiled through her tears. 

"Now, Hans," she laughed, holding to the 
light her rosy finger. 

She talked for all the world like a Dutch 
girl, a Bohemian. She assured me that I had 
been kind to "Betete." She knew I had loved 
her, and loved her now, and always. 



So Ambiguities. 

Then we two, Farina and I, waltzed the 
room, while the blind chef blindly dozed in the 
corner, his nose glued to his violin-bridge, 
until both fell with a crash. 

She espoused my cause, m.y case was to be 
won. Then in all the light she, too, became 
translucent! Farina was not Bettina to me, 
but only her sister. She would restore me my 
own good Bettina, and that right early 

How I loved that good, dear Monsieur who 
behind my back called me ''Hans." After all 
his bland exterior, w^as Monsieur passionate? 
Was Monsieur passion, beautiful letters ? Was 
my good Bettina a temporary devotee to Artf 

Farina herself informed me — I looked pas- 
sively on the establishment. I bought sister 
Farina liveried lackeys, and bright pages, girls 
and boys. 

I looked complacently on the big stakes joy- 
ously showered on me from my delightful path- 
way. I attended the games, for pleasure in 
them. I showered diamonds on Farina for the 
banker. He it was who again wooed me, in be- 
half of my wife's adored sister, for he informed 
me the day was fixed. 

My argosy for witnesses in his divorce trial 



Golden Wedding. 8i 

was to be a dead certainty. He promised me an 
encounter with carbines, right after the trial. 
I was deHghted, for I was pleased to be a dupe 
for the pleasure there was in it. Pleasure was 
everything. He indited me an apostrophe for 
my Bettina, wife's sister. The ode was in let- 
ters of gold on a surface of silver. He apos- 
trophized ''Beauty, the Twin Sister," he called 
her. 

Was he again my Fortuna? Did he shower 
on me sweepstakes, my establishment and men 
in livery? Was he, my Fortune, blind to all 
the Teuton in me? Was Monsieur Irish, sure 
as he was born? 

Might as well say our African cook was Fa- 
rina's father, guarding her with a jealous care. 
Did I think to brush out all my palace, valets 
and all, for the pleasure of my whim? Did I? 
I asked. 

Was it my pleasure to pay my detectives to 
preserve me from my physician and my valet? 
I called on the madam of the gilded saloon. 
Her interpreter accepted my plate of rubies in- 
tended for the madam. I threw myself upon 
the madam and pressed her to my shirt-front. 
I tore the thick veil from her face, and im- 



82 Ambiguities. 

printed kisses on her face, wherever I could. 
The female attendant collapsed at the Madam's 
feet, clutching the rubies. I expected her to 
scream. I bore the Madam from the saloon to 
the cab at the curb. Then we drove down 
town fast. I knew my own wife, when I caught 
her. 

I disillusionized my wife when in the nest 
prepared for her. Meanwhile, I let the banker 
and Farina disappear together, honeymooning 
to Italy. I discharged all my fine appointments, 
trained nurses and all. My own wife was 
mine again. I saved her every explanation, for 
I had disenchanted Monsieur Banker, the old 
fool, loo years old, yet crazy after women, the 
phantoms of his emasculated mind. But what 
had he done with the most beautiful baby? 
The baby, sure enough, the baby. 

Would Farina bring back that hoty totty 
dumpling boy? 

For my wife's own sake — should we hasten 
to Germany? When I showered fees on my 
lawyers, had they not forbade my argosy for 
witnesses ? Had they not cut and dried my case 
with the new code? With my perquisites for 
them, rny case was as though tried. That is, 



Golden Wedding. 83 

it never was to be tried. We were spared the 
fame, for our own glory's sake. 

All Betty's past and all my past was now as 
though it never was for her and me. Now she 
was my betrothed — I her lover, just think of it ! 
Now, she was my bride — I her own "old man," 
her adoring husband. She was as pure as the 
lily. She was purer than the lily and more 
spotless than the snow, or violets, now rant, 
baby. 

I was too pleased to objurgate myself or the 
mother of the gods. Now she reigned in me, 
so that I reigned through her. We celebrated 
the coronation of the most beautiful wax-doll 
enthroned on her piano stool. Bettina played 
and sang to the forward child. Bettina was 
radically cured of her desire to be personally 
immolated on Art's altars in the saloon. To 
facilitate her domestic bliss I slept over the mat- 
ter of another establishment for her. I came 
to consider the duel as most absurd and ridicu- 
lous. Would I duel my great-grandmother, 
Erin go Bragh? Monsieur D. M. Egonis? 

My memories bury with me. Yet I do con- 
fess I was tender in conscience. I felt chanc- 
ing it was unmercifully cruel, wicked and 



84 Ambiguities. 

charlatan. And yet the game-infested place 
captivated, charmed, fascinated poor, weak me. 

It was after the masquerade ball, and I was 
all excitement. The Knight of the Black 
Masque played awkwardly, intentionally, or 
not, I cared not. I — of the white mask, thrice 
vanquished him at cards. I felt larger, I almost 
said bigger, than Paris, my conceptions were 
exaggerated and swift. I was like when I was 
a drowning man, just out from under the ice, 
in the river, boozy. 

My fancy was busied with my memory, soon 
sober as my judge. I staked my all and lost. 
Old fool that I was, enacting the old, old story. 
I saw it all, all at a glance — more than the stage 
has words for, let alone vain babble. I was a 
totally ruined man. I instantly perceived what 
that meant, though I helplessly felt I did not 
just then, and could not take in, all my ruin 
meant to me, and the rest. Mechanically my 
hand was on the jeweled handle in my hip 
pocket. Instantly strong hands bore me to the 
bath. Here they soused me in the hot and cold 
water, and kneaded me, like dough, as usual. 

Exhausted, and then exhilarated, I enjoyed 
the fine aroma of the hot coffee. The fragrant 



Golden Wedding. 85 

fumes from my long-stemmed pipe soothed my 
nerves. I fancied I was the same bald eagle 
I was during previous baths. They had not 
kicked me out, like a dog. I respected gentle- 
manly qualities everywhere. I would pay my 
great debt of honor to the last sou. I would 
face dire penury in the face, like a man. I 
would try again. Surely my luck had not 
turned against me, alack ! As a new sensation I 
even welcomed this, this strange freak of For- 
tune. 

Heretofore I had to win ; restitution was dis- 
honorable and not "gamey," not in the game, 
as was deception. Was the Black Knight an 
American ? He talked French to a T, with the 
accuracy of volubility. He inhaled and exhaled 
French nasals and fairly hissed French labials, 
while his gutturals were fairly mellifluous. 

And yet I overheard him say. "Hokey, 
pokey !" And then I thought he once said, ^we- 
uns." He was an American, but no Puritan, 
by Jumbo. 

I confessed all, everything, all my crime and 
stupendous folly to my own wife, the wife of 
my choice and true heart, my cynosure of my 
devotion, and the object of my protecting care, 



86 Ambiguities. 

my dove, my Bettina Amanda Janet. With her 
full arms encircling my brawny shoulders, she 
crowned me the great hero of the hour with all 
the wealth of love of her woman, great heart. 
I cried, "Host, I lost r 

Her great eyes sparkled and leaped for joy 
of her love for me. Her expressive eyes, the 
gift of a noble race, flashed like a true wife's 
eyes flash, when they shine above ''purest rays 
serene." I had to yield to my emotions. Even 
the gems of poetry, I felt, were absolutely far 
short of exaggeration, when applied to her, at 
that time, for sure. 

I instantly felt, others were and would be 
in my predicament, nice sympathy. And 
though I talked neither coherently, nor intel- 
ligibly, yet she understood right off, all and 
more than my meaning. 

Poor, we came in the world, — in one sense, 
and we would have to tramp and try again. Bet- 
tina faced the new situation more philosophi- 
cally than even I did. She would wear well. 
We began our new life, or last supper in town, 
with tea and toast. We were fancifully ab- 
stemious for one another's sake, for we were 
both positive that we had little appetite, respec- 
tively. Not even the baked apple floating on 



Golden Wedding. Sy 

cream cake and wine sauce tempted me to 
drown it. We reserved it for the sick child 
next door. 

Then who should burst in on us, like a good 
angel, but Farina Lucella herself. She hugged 
and kissed us alternately, bent on having a full 
vent to the free flow of her kindly feelings. 
We could tell her nothing, not a word, she knew 
it all, my ruin included, our distress, our plans, 
our everythings. 

''Black Knight d-i-a-b-1-o !" she stormed; 
here she clasped both her hands and stretched 
her full arms upward and downward, from 
above her head almost to the carpet, like she was 
crushing a false knight, or a dirty liar. 

She exclaimed : "American'm'n, mebby, zat 
mon he c-h-e-a-t you ! Zat mon, my own Old- 
m'n! Monsieur shall make ze amende hono- 
rable. Monsieur fear ze true light. I, his light, 
your light. Cadet Lieutenant, Madam's own 
son, witness. Chef, he two witness." 

Soothing and caressing the two true women, 
as best I could do, I could scarce believe my 
own senses. How had that astute, elderly sin- 
ner vamoosed me again in this royal fashion? 
Once clearly convinced of his daring fraud, and 



88 Ambiguities. 

brazen effrontery, 1 simply refused to pay him, 
Metaphorically I shook him out, dust and all. 
I twisted his nostrils, his blamed proboscis. 

Impotent as the polished rascal certainly 
was, I almost resolved to thrash him within an 
inch of his profligate life. Judge of my feel- 
ings when he confronted me with the Lieuten- 
ant, my wife's long absent son, dear boy. 

Monsieur, the irrepressible, was interested in 
my dear Lieutenant's promotion, very inter- 
ested. Monsieur was genuine politeness itself, 
genuine. Monsieur adore the military, and 
longed for a foster son to become Field Mar- 
shal. Monsieur kissed the air the ladies kissed, 
then he kissed the Lieutenant, whom he prom- 
ised an ode, and plume. 

But Monsieur dared never mention that little 
due bill, the smart fox knew better. And then 
we were going to have an extra good time. 
Our distant relative was coming to visit us. 
He was sure to bring the baby. His wife had 
or had not donned the mystic veil. I could not 
make out, while Farina and our boy were to 
carry out a good old-fashioned flirtation. 

And we were all to sail for New York, on 
Saturday morning, at 12 o'clock. And to Mon- 



Golden Wedding. 89 

sieur with all his latent goodness, we said, ''fare 
thee well," and threw kisses at Neptune and 
salt hoss. 

On our way out, in midocean, as per prom- 
ise, we read Monsieur's epistolary donation to 
and for us, and commented as we read. 

His address was to — 

^'Latterly, the Mr. Fiddlesticks." 

He somehow wrote across the face of the 
envelope, ''If not delivered return to the Former 
Mrs. Fiddlesticks." 

"Former," was accentuated. He promised 
to meet her in New York on the anniversary of 
his 97th birthday, the disingenuous prevarica- 
tor of mathematical figures, incarnate pecca- 
dillo, maimed in the socket of his right limb! 
The unappreciated but unconscious demon- 
strator of foreign proclivities! He wrote, 
"Kisses for all, and the mathematics." 

Let us eliminate a varied past. Let us only 
look on any possible mistakes, in the hope of 
further improvement. Let us cheerfully meet 
the near future in the active present, at the 
trysting place. 

We are always blest. We are stable, perma- 



90 



Ambiguities. 



nent, so long as we are in the right view — our- 
selves approving ourselves. 

Let us do all we can; let us do the best we 
can. Have v/e always so acted? When we 
shall have done this, who knows what will come 
to us? 




1OO0^ 



FEB. T 1902 



FEB. 14 1902 



